


One Step Forward

by Sybariticfanfiction (SybariticReyna)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fix-It, Fluff, Fuck Bioware, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Let me tell Alistair who his mom is!!!!!, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22549114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SybariticReyna/pseuds/Sybariticfanfiction
Summary: two steps backIn which Reader tells Alistair the truth
Relationships: Alistair & Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Alistair (Dragon Age) & Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	One Step Forward

**Author's Note:**

> I am and will remain forever mad that you can't Tell Alistair or encourage Fiona to tell him herself that she's his mother. They're so close!! If you have warden!Alistair theyre in the same damn city!!!

Queen Anora is more intimidating in person. 

King Alistair is less so. 

You don’t know what either of them think of you. Surely they’re at least aware of  _ who _ you are, despite your dearest friend being the Mark-Bearer and renowned Herald. You met Alistair briefly in Redcliffe as well, although he was blinded by emotion, and you were unquestionably in a state of shock after the adventure through the future. 

In any case, you steel yourself as you approach the pair. Without your armor, you feel… exposed, vulnerable, so you try to convince yourself that regalia serves just as well. At the very least it makes a cool swishy noise when you move. 

Alistair smiles at you in greeting, while Anora inclines her head and says, “Inquisitor.” 

You still have  _ not _ gotten used to that. You wave awkwardly, remember she’s  _ the goddamn queen,  _ and bow. “My queen. I was wondering if I could steal your husband for a moment.” 

Alistair raises his eyebrows, mock offended, “Her husband? Is that my title now?” 

“What do you need  _ my husband _ for?” Anora asks, her lips trembling in amusement. The emphasis on his “title” was clearly to poke fun, and Alistair gasps accordingly. 

_ Cute,  _ you think, glancing between the two of them. You’re glad that they appear to get along. Leliana has confided that Ali hasn’t been the same since the Hero of Ferelden basically dropped off the map, so to see him joking with Anora is… good. It’s good. 

“Inquisitor?” Anora says. 

“Oh! Sorry?” You were staring. “I just wanted to show Alis-- King Alistair our library. There is someone I’d like to introduce him to, if you don’t mind.” 

She nods, “Of course. I’m sure Alistair could use a break.” 

“Yes, talking to nobles all day is exhausting. And, I’m sorry, Inquisitor, but the  _ food _ . It’s so--” He motions listlessly towards the banquet tables. 

“Not an indiscernible grey color with no texture?” You suggest. 

“Exactly! Are you sure we’re still in Ferelden?” He smiles at you (and you do not have  _ time  _ to get mushy over simply making him smile, not after you already got caught making lovey eyes at the pair, but…). 

At least this time you don’t need to respond. You simply lead him to the roped off library, where you know, for a fact, most of the less social members of your circle hang out during these soirees. Fiona included. 

For the time being however, Solas is absent, which allows you to lay down some groundwork, so to speak. You don’t bother sitting down, leaning against Solas’ desk instead. “Alistair, I know Leliana has told you about my… Seeing.” You don’t like that word, but it's easier than the  _ truth _ . Explaining what a video game is would take longer than it's worth. 

“A neat trick.” Alistair responds. 

“Mhm.” You agree blandly. “So. I know you met with Goldonna like--”

“Goldonna?” 

You don’t bother complaining about being interrupted. “Your half sister?” 

“No, I  _ know _ , I’m just--” He seems distressed. “Is she  _ here _ ? Is that who you wanted me to meet? I’m not sure what Leliana told you but--” 

“Alistair.” You cut him off as gently as possible. “Goldanna isn’t here.” 

He pauses, eyes narrowed like he’s searching for signs of dishonesty. “Then who? I don’t-- I haven’t got any other family.” 

“Goldonna is your half sister, if that. Her mother was a servant, but… Yours was a Grey Warden. And I know I’m asking for a huge leap of faith here, but  _ please  _ trust me.” 

Alistair isn’t dumb. He may act like it sometimes, and he certainly downplays his own competency and covers insecurities with jokes, but he isn’t dumb. He falls silent, his face pinched in thought before he asks, “What do you mean  _ was  _ a Grey Warden? No one stops being a Grey Warden.” 

“There was one.” You reply, purposefully glancing up at the second story of the rotunda. “She was cured around the same time you were born.” 

“Fiona.” Alistair says. It's not a question. You’re sure the Hero of Ferelden at least spoke with her in their search for a cure for the taint. 

“She’s upstairs. You don’t need to talk to her, I wouldn’t ever pressure you into something like that, but. The option is there.” A selfish and optimistic part of you wants them to see each other  _ officially  _ as mother and child and hit it off immediately, but you know better than that. 

“Does she know I’m here?” He asks, bringing you back to the present. 

“Yes. She always…” You smile, “Whenever myself or the Herald sees you, she asks how you look.  _ Does he seem happy? He looks healthy? _ It’s very sweet.” That’s what prompted you to attempt this meet up. She clearly still cares for him a great deal, despite trying to be subtle. 

Alistair doesn’t seem to share your sentiment. His face is pinched, pain or anger you don't know. “She could’ve asked me herself!” 

You want to explain, to try and undo some of his pain, but it's not your place. You’re already breaking quite a few rules, even if you can rationalize it as information Alistair deserves to know. 

“Ali.” You say instead, stepping closer. 

If someone had told you that King Alistair of Ferelden would throw his arms around you and hide his face in your neck during one of the most Important Soirees the Inquisition has hosted, you would’ve laughed. Sure, you’re allies, and you hope to be friends, but hugging? That’s-- that’s just not in the cards. No one hugs the Inquisitor, let alone clings to them like a living teddy bear. 

But that’s where you find yourself. 

You slowly bring a hand up, carding your fingers through his hair. “Hey. It’s okay if you don’t wanna see her.” That’s insufficient, you know, but he’s  _ hugging you _ and you’re about to get emotional too. When was the last time you were held? 

(Before Haven, you're pretty sure. The closest you can remember is Cassandra supporting your weight after you took quite the hit, and even then she was in full plate) 

(This is… different) 

He’s not crying, not even sniffling, but he’s trembling. 

You half wish Cole would appear and help you out, but… The idea of someone, even Cole, finding you like this is  _ not great _ . You suppose its a side effect of holding yourself in a vice grip for so long. Showing  _ weakness  _ isn’t an option. 

But comforting Alistair, that’s not weakness, right? Even if it comforts you as well? 

You will allow yourself this.

**Author's Note:**

> In case anybody's confused (like my lovely and talented beta reader, mcfuck), this was originally gonna be part of a longer fic wherein reader/modern character in Thedas is Inky but Not the Herald bc idk thats an interesting idea to me?


End file.
